


Keep Playing Games

by orhowfar



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Meet-Cute, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4666371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orhowfar/pseuds/orhowfar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unsolicited cat picture gets out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> birthday giftfic for jennis41digsdragons on tumblr. inspired by this thing ([x](http://orhowfar.tumblr.com/post/124303695587/ohwhatprovidence-ohwhatprovidence-one-time)).

*  
  
The first thing Hiccup noticed when he opened the fridge was something solid landing on his head, and the second thing he noticed was piercing agony as needles gouged into his scalp. He didn’t have time to regret not closing the box of cereal properly last time, and the third thing he noticed was it was suddenly raining corn flakes.  
  
He hurled himself backwards out of reflex, yelling in surprise and pain, the heel of his prosthetic slipping on the tile. The thing on his head yowled. Hiccup kicked the fridge door in his effort to remain upright, making a loud bang, then a loud bang again as the fridge door bounced against the adjacent wall. The needles dug further into his forehead then launched away.  
  
Hiccup landed on his back, and for a few dazed moments he tried to figure out what the hell just happened. He had just wanted breakfast. That’s all he was in here for. Why, just, how—?  
  
Something small and dark dashed away in his peripheral vision, hissing. Aching, Hiccup propped himself up on his elbows, managing to catch sight of a small black cat as it disappeared under the kitchen table.  
  
And this wouldn’t be weird at all, except Hiccup didn’t own a cat.  
  
Hiccup crawled on his hands and knees through the corn flakes, stooping his head to peer under a chair. Crouched against the wall was the attack cat, ears back, fur standing on end, light reflecting demonically off its eyes.  
  
“How’d you get in here, buddy?” Hiccup stretched his hand out.  
  
The cat under the table made a noise like a monster in a deep dark cave.  
  
Hiccup snatched his hand back, valuing his remaining limbs.  
  
“Oooh… kay,” Hiccup said. He managed to drag himself off the floor, and crossed to his still-open refrigerator and pulled out some deli ham and an apple. The growling started back up as he neared the table, but he just tossed a slice of ham under there without looking. He ignored the corn flakes scattered all over the kitchen linoleum because it was way too early in the morning to deal with that on top of everything else.  
  
Biting into his apple, Hiccup crossed into the living room and dropped on the couch. It was a small apartment—a small, no-pets-allowed, third-floor apartment, how that cat ended up atop his refrigerator Hiccup didn’t even know—so he was able to keep an eye on the intruder as he ate. Gingerly, he felt the scratches on his forehead, which stung when he touched them.  
  
What was he supposed to do here? Call his landlord? Animal control? Open up his front door and hope the cat found its way out? What would happen to the cat?  
  
Hiccup took another bite of his apple and peered over the back of the couch. Through the chair legs he saw a small black limb reach out and bat suspiciously at the slice of ham.  
  
“It’s ham, cat,” Hiccup said, although why, he didn’t know. “You eat it.”  
  
The cat either ignored him or didn’t understand English, so Hiccup lay back down against the armrest of the couch, picked his phone off the coffee table, and checked his e-mail while he finished off his apple. After a few minutes, he heard some scritching and scuffing coming from the kitchen.  
  
Carefully he covered the top of his head with a throw pillow, then sat back up to see what was going on.  
  
The cat was out from under the table, swatting at corn flakes. However, as soon as it caught Hiccup watching, it jumped about a foot in the air then darted back to its hiding place. It had a strange, rolling gait that Hiccup didn’t notice when he was trying not to have a panic attack on the floor, but before he could pin down what was off about it, the cat was out of sight once again.  
  
“I have to meet my advisor in like an hour,” Hiccup informed the cat. “What am I s’posed to do about you?”  
  
What Hiccup ended up doing about the cat was absolutely nothing, thinking he’d have something figured out by the time he got back. He returned to the apartment later that day with an armful of cat food, a litter box, a scratching post, some cat toys that looked extra super fun, and Neosporin.  
  
Judging by the state and smell of his apartment, the cat saw no need for any of these things.  
  
Hiccup did a full circle, taking in the destruction with an open mouth. How in the world…  
  
Snagged threads popped out of the back of his couch, his refrigerator was open again for god knows how long, anything that could possibly be knocked over including the trash can was knocked over, and there was a pile of something smelly _somewhere_ and Hiccup needed find out where. Maybe he should have gotten at least a litter box before he left, but it was too late to regret that now.  
  
Something tugged at the hem of his jeans, and he looked down. The selfsame cat was now attacking the back of his leg, luckily the fake one, because its claws were in pretty deep.  
  
“All right,” Hiccup said carefully, lowering the huge bag of pet supplies onto the floor. “Just don’t you _no no no_ don’t climb up, don’t climb— _ow_!”  
  
For the second time that day he felt the pinch of needles, this time up the length of his back until the cat perched itself on his left shoulder. When Hiccup pulled his head back to get a better look, the cat’s bright green eyes were inches away from his own. Almost cautiously it lifted a forepaw.  
  
Hiccup pointed his finger in return. “Don’t even try it.”  
  
It put its paw back down, but continued to give Hiccup an evil look.  
  
Or maybe it wasn’t an evil look. Maybe it was just a little evil-looking. Now close enough to see, the cat looked like what a cat would look like if it had met the wrong side of a jet engine. One ear was torn, the other had its tip missing. Its nose had a bare spot where a long scar, still red, tore through its fur. More scars probably peppered its body, although with the matted, chewed fur it was difficult to say. When the cat turned to wind its way over to Hiccup’s other shoulder, Hiccup finally discovered the reason for the pitch in its stride: it was missing its whole left hind leg, all the way up to the buttock.  
  
Hiccup let out a low whistle.  
  
Still, it didn’t seem to slow it down any, even if— _ow_ —even if it seemed to not know how to retract its claws. Obviously, it was still able to make its way to the top of a refrigerator in order to launch itself onto unsuspecting humans.  
  
Slowly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and managed to snap a picture of the cat in profile just before the cat decided to try walking down the length of his outstretched arm, and slipped. Hiccup managed to pull it up against his chest in time, shaking his head. At this point he wasn’t even surprised by the way the cat plunged its claws into his forearm, figuring it probably did so for traction; at least it seemed to refrain from using its teeth.  
  
He deposited the cat on the couch, and they watched one another for a moment before the cat pointed its hind leg to clean itself. _His_ hind leg. Apparently a neutering was in order too, although Hiccup wasn’t about to tell him that.  
  
This was a very weird day so far.  
  
Hiccup ended up texting the picture of the cat to his cousin Snot, who he knew for a fact had seen all varieties of cat video YouTube had to offer and would probably appreciate it. Then he went about cleaning up his apartment, starting with throwing open every window he could find.  
  
By the time he got back to his phone he had seven new text messages from Snot, another one coming in just as he opened the conversation.  
  
_Who is this?_  
  
Hiccup frowned, then scrolled up. The previous seven text messages were all along the same line.  
  
_Who is this?  
  
Who is this?  
  
Who is this  
  
How did you get my number  
  
Seriously who is this?  
  
Who the fuck are you?  
  
Who’s this?  
  
_ Utterly dumbfounded, Hiccup checked the contact. It still said Snot, and it was the same number he always had. Sure, the picture of the cat only contained Hiccup’s shoulder and right ear, but he’d have thought Snot would be able to recognize his own cousin’s ear by now.  
  
Another text popped up.  
  
_What the hell did you do to your cat_  
  
At this point Hiccup was fairly certain that this wasn’t Snot. Maybe one of Snot’s girlfriends was snooping through his phone? Although a picture of a cat was by far the least racy thing his cousin had on his phone, so that didn’t make any sense either.  
  
_WHO IS THIS????_  
  
Whoa.  
  
Hiccup decided that ignoring it was probably the best option at this point.  
  
So he sent a message to Snot through Facebook: _Did you get a new phone or something?_  
  
_hell ya man galazy note5 WHAT UP_  
  
Despite himself Hiccup was impressed.  
  
_Those arent even out yet_  
  
_fuck no their not u mad  
  
Not me but whoever has your old number is, gimme your new one  
  
u tryin to send dick pics again hic_  
  
Hiccup rolled his eyes. _I got a cat_ , he messaged. _  
  
seriously?? when  
  
It just sort of showed up in my apt this morning and attacked me  
  
I LOVE THIS CAT!! why havnet you sent me a pic yet wtf u kno its my bday man  
  
_ At the same time Hiccup got four new text messages:  
  
_Who  
  
Is  
  
This  
  
?  
  
_Hiccup winced, and heard a crinkling, looking up to see his new cat chewing on the plastic bag from the pet store.  
  
“No don’t eat that!” Hiccup jumped off the couch and stumbled in his haste, briefly grabbing the back of the couch for balance. The as-yet unnamed cat growled as he approached, but Hiccup just told him to shush as he pulled the bag away and tossed it onto the kitchen table.  
  
The cat followed Hiccup back to the couch, Hiccup glancing suspiciously over his shoulder as he did.  
  
The cat wasn’t graceful, exactly; with one back leg, he lifted his rear in a hopping motion with every step and kept his tail cocked toward the left to compensate. As Hiccup watched, he clawed his way up the back of the couch and did his hop-step along the edge roll until he reached Hiccup’s shoulder, at which point he sat and began to stare.  
  
Hiccup’s phone buzzed again and he let out a sigh. Both Snot and Not-Snot were lighting him up, via Facebook and SMS.  
  
_hiccup  
  
Who the fuck seriously  
_  
Hiccup felt a paw on his shoulder again.  
_  
hiccup i want to see ythe cat  
  
Who’s this  
  
_ Now the cat was climbing onto his head.  
_  
show me ur pussy hiccup lol  
  
Who is this??  
  
_ “Agh,” Hiccup said, and turned off his phone, then stuck it under the couch cushion for good measure.  
  
The next day when he turned his phone back on there were three new messages from Not-Snot, which he barely even looked at, except for to note the area code because in the back of his mind he worried about these things.  
  
747… what was that, the valley? Could be as close as North Hollywood, though… Still, it was a pretty big area code, right? And LA was a huge city. Hiccup didn’t need to be worried about this. It was stupid to worry about this.  
  
There were also four voicemails from his father demanding why he was being sent straight to voicemail, which drove Not-Snot out of his mind. And when they didn’t text again, he forgot about them for a whole year.  
  
*  
  
By the next summer Hiccup had moved out of the third-floor apartment and rented out a residential annex closer to campus that allowed pets; luckily by that time Toothless, as he’d named the war-torn cat, had also grown out of most of his bad habits. He still viewed people as furniture, but at least had caught onto the idea of a litter box pretty quickly.  
  
There was a pounding against the door. With a sigh, adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder, Hiccup opened it.  
  
“Hand it over,” said Snotlout without preamble.  
  
Hiccup tapped his fingers against his shoulder, and felt Toothless climb up his back to settle there as usual. “Hand what over?”  
  
Snot snapped his fingers in front of Hiccup’s face, ignoring the way Toothless made a lackluster swipe for his fingers. “My birthday present. And I swear Hiccup, if you’re taking me to another downtown artsy fartsy thing or whatever, I’m walking away. I could be playing laser tag right now,” he added, as if nothing could possibly top this.  
  
“We’re going to Santa Monica.”  
  
“The beach?” Snotlout did a fist pump. “Yes!”  
  
Hiccup wasn’t particularly as enthused about the beach-trip as Snot was, even though it was his idea; it used to be because of his leg and people stared, but his new leg was had an aqua sport flesh-colored covering so that wasn’t the issue. The real issue was walking on sand made him feel clumsy, and with Snot there Hiccup was about seventy percent likely to eat sand today. But Snot loved the beach, mostly because bikinis, and it was his birthday, so.  
  
“There’s also a ferris wheel.”  
  
“Oh god Hiccup don’t ruin it already,” Snot groaned, and then accused, “You didn’t tell me to bring my bathing suit! Oh well, nude it is I guess—”  
  
“Nope,” said Hiccup, stepping over the threshold past Snot and locking his door. Toothless moved from his shoulder to settle around the back of his neck like a scarf, hooking his right hind leg over Hiccup’s collarbone. “They sell them at the pier, that’s your birthday present.”  
  
“And flip-flops too, right?”  
  
“Yeah. Sure. I guess.”  
  
“I’ll need a matching beach towel.”  
  
“I’m _bringing_ beach towels with—”  
  
“I’ll need a matching beach towel,” Snot repeated as they made their way to the street, where Hiccup had his car parked.  
  
Hiccup sighed, rubbing a hand over his face; Toothless caught his thumb with a paw.  
  
“And a rad pair of aviators.”  
  
“That’s… okay, but _that’s it_ —”  
  
“And some SPF 50 at the least, my skin’s too beautiful to—”  
  
Hiccup patted his sports bag to show he had that covered already.  
  
“Is that what you’re wearing?” demanded Snot.  
  
Hiccup looked down. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”  
  
“We’re gonna be seen together, nerd. You’ve had those same lime green swim trunks since high school.”  
  
“They still fit.”  
  
“God, you’re gonna wear your T-shirt the whole time too, aren’t you.”  
  
“Unless I want claw marks down my back, yeah,” Hiccup said, throwing his duffel bag in the back seat and getting into the driver’s side. At least Snot didn’t notice Hiccup’s velcro strap sandals, but if Hiccup wore flip-flops he tended to kick off the left one.  
  
Toothless hopped onto the front seat, only to jump back into Hiccup’s lap as Snot opened the passenger side door.  
  
“Excuses excuses,” Snot snorted as he buckled up. “I can’t believe you’re taking him too.”  
  
“Toothless likes the beach,” Hiccup said absently as he pulled away from the curb. “He attacks the foam then runs away.”  
  
“Your cat’s much cooler than you are, Hiccup,” Snot patted Toothless on the head vigorously, who gave him the stink eye before pointedly smoothing down his fur again. “You only run. Try to, at least.”  
  
“That was the old leg!” Hiccup protested, smoothing down the black brace cover on his left thigh. “You know how hard it is to swim when one of your limbs keeps trying to float?”  
  
“You’d think it’d make it easier.”  
  
“Well. It doesn’t.”  
  
They drove on for a while in silence, and Hiccup had just started to realize that that in itself was weird when Snot said aloud, “Who’s Jenni?”  
  
“Huh?” Hiccup glanced over to see Snot bent over Hiccup’s phone. “Hey, get your own phone!”  
  
Hiccup made a half-hearted grab for it, but Snot just moved it closer to the passenger side window.  
  
“Is she cute?”  
  
“I’m sure her husband thinks so,” Hiccup said pointedly.  
  
“Aww. Still, just ‘cause she’s married—”  
  
“I’m gonna stop you right there.”  
  
“I’m just saying, sometimes it’s the married ones that end up being the most freaky in—”  
  
“I will not _ask_ you how you know that, Snot, but please, seriously.”  
  
“You’re such a drag sometimes, cuz.”  
  
In response Hiccup turned the radio on.  
  
Snot turned it off almost immediately.  
  
“What—?”  
  
“Who’s this?” Snot waved the phone in front of Hiccup’s nose.  
  
“Whoa!” Hiccup pushed the arm down. “Trying to drive here!”  
  
“They texted you like ten times today.”  
  
Hiccup frowned, thinking to himself he was lucky if he got ten texts in a month. “You’re the only one who’s texted me today, and all you said was _I’m on my way loser_.”  
  
“Loser,” Snot chuckled, as if reminded of the most hilarious joke. There was a pause, and Hiccup glanced over to see Snot’s thumb moving as he scrolled. “Oh wait this was on my birthday last year.”  
  
Hiccup frowned, grabbing Toothless around the stomach as he tried to climb up on the dashboard. “Can you take the cat please?”  
  
Without looking up from Hiccup’s phone, Snot picked up Toothless and brought him to his lap. Toothless seemed disgruntled about this, most likely because Snot petted too hard. Indeed, the cat looked slightly squashed as Snot ran a hand down his back.  
  
“Hang on, this is me!” Snot eventually exclaimed. “This is my old number! I don’t remember this picture of Toothless.”  
  
Hiccup finally remembered, and burst out laughing.  
  
“What? What’s funny? Hiccup, tell me what’s funny.”  
  
“Not-Snot.” Hiccup shook his head, still grinning.  
  
“Not me what?”  
  
“No, that was the day Toothless ambushed me—you’d just gotten your Note 5, remember?”  
  
“Actually, your dad got me that.”  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
“How d’you think I got it all unofficially?”  
  
“I haven’t had a new phone in like four years,” grumbled Hiccup.  
  
“Haha, I know. Mine cost like a thousand dollars too.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome. Wow, Not-Me seems really mad. You sure you didn’t try to send a dick pic?”  
  
They were at a red light so Hiccup felt safe enough to close his eyes briefly. Finally, he said slowly and clearly, being sure to enunciate each word, “Snot, if there were any universe in which I would even consider doing something like that, why would I send it to, of all people, you?”  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe you had a lump?”  
  
The light turned green, and Hiccup pulled forward, shaking his head in bewilderment. “So naturally you’re the first person I ask? What could you have done?”  
  
“Well, I could tell you it’s probably not good, for starters.”  
  
“I mean, thanks, but—”  
  
“Hiccup, if you have a lump, you should probably get that checked out.”  
  
“I don’t have a—you know what, never mind.”  
  
“Why’d you never text them back? You know, sorry, wrong number, so are you hot, kinda thing.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Hiccup shrugged. “Ignoring it was easier I guess.”  
  
“You should send Not-Me a Tooth update!” Snot exclaimed. “Now that he’s not all covered in ticks.”  
  
Hiccup laughed. “I’m not sure they’d appreciate that.”  
  
“Come on, it’s been a year almost to the _hour_.”  
  
After a moment, Hiccup said, “Sure, why not.” Truthfully, he was a little amused thinking what the reaction on the other end might be. Keeping his wheel steady with one hand, he tapped the dashboard in front of Snot, and Toothless hopped straight up. “Hurry up, before he falls.”  
  
After a second, Snot said, “Got it.”  
  
“Is it a good one?”  
  
“Yeah, his fur’s super shiny and he looks evil.”  
  
“Hit send.” Hiccup reached out toward Toothless without looking, who clawed his way up his arm to settle on his shoulder once again.  
  
They hadn’t even reached the next stoplight before Hiccup heard his phone buzz.  
  
Snot read aloud, “Okay who is this?”  
  
Hiccup laughed, somehow unsurprised.  
  
“Wow, they’re coming in quick. Who is this? And again. Should I say something?”  
  
“Nah,” Hiccup smirked, “just keep reading.” He felt claws dig into his shoulder briefly before Toothless leapt the gap between the seats, then proceeded to use Snot’s headrest as a scratching post.  
  
“Who is this, seriously who the eff is this… holy hell, they’re _mad_.”  
  
Hiccup just shrugged, still grinning. He remembered when this happened last year he mostly felt anxious about it, but with a partner in crime next to him it was suddenly hilarious.  
  
After a moment Snot twisted in his seat, and Hiccup glanced over to see him digging his own phone out of his back pocket.  
  
“What are you doing?” Hiccup asked.  
  
“Sending them a pic of the Hookster.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Well, that was a good enough reason as any, Hiccup supposed.  
  
For several minutes he drove in silence, while Snot pored over his phone.  
  
“Have you sent one yet?” Hiccup finally demanded.  
  
“Nah, I’m trying to find the best one.”  
  
“How many pictures of Hookfang do you have, exactly?”  
  
“So many. But I want one that suggests my cat beat up your cat.”  
  
Hiccup scowled, and peeked at Toothless, who was hanging off the passenger seat like his feet were made of velcro. Then he turned back to the road.  
  
“Your cat can’t beat up my cat,” Hiccup said.  
  
“You don’t know that.”  
  
“Yes I do. Toothless beats _me_ up.”  
  
“Everyone beats you up, Hic,” Snot said without missing a beat, still scrolling through his photo gallery.  
  
Hiccup opened his mouth to say something, but only managed an eyeroll.  
  
After another few minutes Snot guffawed so loud that Toothless sprang into the backseat.  
  
“They’re going off on me! Who is this, seriously stop messing with me, what the actual hell…”  
  
“Anything else for me?” Hiccup wanted to know.  
  
After switching phones, Snot said, “Not-Me _also_ wants to beat you up.”  
  
“Great.”  
  
“Yeah, this is amazing!”  
  
*  
  
It was the perfect temperature by the beach, the sharp ocean wind stealing heat from the air. Hiccup and Snot walked together down the promenade toward the pier; Snot was wearing his brand new beach outfit, and the theme he apparently decided to go for was red, black, and flames, with a matching towel slung over a bare shoulder.  
  
“Come on, let me hold Tooth for a while,” begged Snot. He and Hiccup had just been stopped by the third group of girls asking if they could pet Toothless. The cat, initially irritated after being forced into the kitty harness, was now grudgingly purring in his spot draped across the back of Hiccup’s neck. “I didn’t realize the cat was such a babe magnet.”  
  
Hiccup gave Snot a skeptical look. “Keyword _cat_ ,” he said, “we may as well be invisible.”  
  
“Come on, man!”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Hiccup reached up to pull Toothless off his shoulder, who raked a long line on the back of Hiccup’s hand as he was handed over to Snot. Snot attempted to situate the cat atop his beach towel that lay on his shoulder, but Toothless wouldn’t keep still, and tried to slither his way behind Snot’s broad neck.  
  
“Ow! Watch the nails!” said Snot, leaning his head forward and wincing. “ _Ow_ ow ow ow, jeez, cat—AH! Okay. Take him back.”  
  
Toothless had just batted at Snot’s brand new aviators, so they dangled off one ear.  
  
Hiccup grinned as he detached Toothless’ hind foot from Snot’s towel. “And you made fun of me for wearing a shirt.”  
  
Rubbing resentfully at the fresh claw marks on his shoulder and adjusting his sunglasses, Snot grumbled, “No wonder all your clothes have holes in them.”  
  
“I brought some Neosporin with me if—”  
  
“Neosporin’s for _wimps_ ,” Snot scoffed as they resumed their walk toward the beach. “Whatever. I’ll bring the Hookster next time. He’s prettier than Tooth anyway.”  
  
“Hook also bolts when you turn the kitchen sink on,” Hiccup pointed out, feeling Toothless perch his front paws atop his head, grabbing hair and scalp with his claws for balance. “You wouldn’t get him within a mile of the ocean.”  
  
“I’d put your face a mile in the ocean if your leg didn’t keep you afloat.”  
  
“No, that’s the point, this one actually has these holes so when—”  
  
“Boring!” Snot interjected. “Come on, buy me a hot dog.”  
  
They took their hot dogs to the waterfront, a few hundred feet away from the iconic view of Santa Monica’s pier. Toothless sat atop Hiccup’s head as he polished off his hot dog, swiping at it every time Hiccup brought it up toward his mouth. He got Hiccup’s nose a few times.  
  
Hiccup tore off a piece of his last bite of hot dog and reached up to give it to Toothless.  
  
“Shit,” came Snot’s voice. “We gotta move, Hic.”  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
Snot held out Hiccup’s own phone again, which Hiccup took, frowning.  
  
Unbeknownst to him his cousin had taken a picture of Toothless as he sat atop Hiccup’s head; the ferris wheel was in the background. It was actually quite a good picture, not least because Snot had the good sense to leave his face out of it, but he didn’t have time to appreciate that once he saw the reply (from “Not snot”, as the contact was reprogrammed in Hiccup’s phone):  
  
_I know exactly where you are._  
  
He and Snot exchanged a panicked look.  
  
By the time they had frantically gathered all their items, Toothless helping by chasing the whipping towel corners, another text had come in. Like watching an asteroid catapult toward Earth, Hiccup had to stop what he was doing to look.  
  
_My dog eats your cat_ , with a picture of the aforementioned dog.  
  
“Oh my god,” said Hiccup.  
  
Snot peered over his shoulder. “Hey, it’s a lady hand!” He referred to the hand at the dog’s collar, but that was the last thing Hiccup was looking at.  
  
“It’s a pitbull,” said Hiccup.  
  
“Red nail polish, look!”  
  
“It’s a pitbull with an underbite.”  
  
“She matches my towel.”  
  
“It’s standing on sand.” Hiccup glanced around worriedly. “Can we go now please?”

They began to move through the heavy sand, Toothless doing his odd skip beside them, until Snot stopped short. “Wait, why are we running? It’s not like she knows what we look like.”  
  
Hiccup stopped to face him. “We have a cat. At the beach. In Santa Monica. _I think that’s specific enough_.”  
  
“You have a cat,” Snot reminded. “I’m just your average hefty chunk of mancake.” When Hiccup just stared, he went on, “You know, your cat, your problem.”  
  
This was unbelievable.  
  
“You sent the damn picture! Could you have chosen a more recognizable skyline?”  
  
“Tough, bro. I’m gonna go play volleyball. These muscles need an audience.”  
  
“What about familial loyalty!” Hiccup yelled after Snot’s retreating form.  
  
Didn’t exist anymore, apparently.  
  
Sighing, Hiccup bent to scoop up Toothless, did a three-sixty degree turn, then walked as quickly as he could from the waterfront, considering his options. The sand tried to hold him back with each step.  
  
Where to run? They’d probably expect him to move from the beach after that last text, so maybe the smartest choice was to stay where he was? On the other hand, if they _did_ end up finding him here, it would feel like a very stupid choice indeed. The pier? The pier was crowded, which was a plus. Nowhere to really go though, if he got trapped.  
  
Toothless perched on his shoulder, facing backwards with his hind foot in the hollow of Hiccup’s collarbone, permanently-cocked tail curling under his nose like a mustache.  
  
A store! Yeah, he’d just browse around for an hour or so. Shops didn’t allow pets, no way that dog—wait, damn, Toothless counted as a pet, didn’t he.  
  
Hiccup had just decided to hide in his car with the radio on when Toothless’ fluffy tail whipped him in the nose. Then he felt a sharp poke in his back. Toothless hissed, spat and jerked in a sudden movement, one set of claws digging into Hiccup’s shoulder blade.  
  
“Agh!” cried Hiccup, at the same time someone behind him said, “Ah!,” so Hiccup turned around, his mouth dropped open, he said, “Agh,” again, took two giant steps backwards, misbalanced, and fell on his ass.  
  
Toothless had managed to keep his perch by grabbing at Hiccup’s T-shirt like a falling curtain until it was hiked up enough for his claws to sink in the bare flesh of his stomach instead. Hiccup caught the kitty harness just as the cat tried to tear his way down the length of Hiccup’s outstretched left leg.  
  
At the same time, directly at face-level was a leaping and howling dark gray pitbull, which would bay at Toothless before bouncing back behind its owner’s legs, the slack in the blue leash bobbing with the movement. Long legs. Attached to a long body. And he’d already glimpsed the face. Hiccup remembered belatedly to shut his mouth.  
  
_Why_ , Hiccup thought, for so many reasons.  
  
One of the reasons was, apparently, that the recipient of his unsolicited Toothless pictures—and he knew this for a fact because, pitbull, distinctive underbite, although a refreshing lack of cat-eating—the recipient was definitely Not. Snot. From Hiccup’s point of view it went sneakers, pitbull, leg, more leg, jogging shorts, and then he rather guiltily skipped to her face. Loose hairs came free from her long golden ponytail and were stuck to her forehead.  
  
She also definitely seemed angry, bearing a crunched expression with a twist of shock at the whirlwind of events. One hand was pulled back against her chest, thumb pressed down hard on her index finger. Beside her the gray dog howled again, then hid its face behind its owner’s knees after Toothless spat back.  
  
“Your cat attacked me!” She stuck her finger at him accusingly.  
  
Hiccup pushed himself on one elbow, squinting a little with the sun directly above them. He held Toothless with one hand, the electrified fur on his rounded back ticking the back of his knuckles. The cat’s tail was diagonal in the air but straight and fuzzy as a bottle brush.  
  
“I think he defended me,” Hiccup pointed out, feeling it was unfair that, despite this, _he_ was the one that ended up on his ass with Toothless’ claws painfully gripping that really sensitive part just above his left knee. Tooth couldn’t have stopped a little further, and grabbed the fabric of the knee brace, could he. No. Damn cat had to choose the half of the leg that still had nerve endings. Wincing, Hiccup added, “Against all appearances,” and tried to delicately pick Toothless’ talons out of his skin.  
  
The pitbull squeezed off a few more barks before the woman finally called her dog off: “Stormfly! Leave it!”  
  
Then she unzipped an honest-to-goodness fanny pack, not even trying to play it cool by wearing it sideways on her hip, but straight in front, like she was in some kind of 90s dance music video.  
  
Hiccup was too busy being amused by this detail that he had to blink and focus when she brandished her phone at him.  
  
“So? You have anything to say for yourself, funny guy?”  
  
She pulled back after a warning growl emanated from Toothless; Hiccup held him more securely to his chest, shushing him and giving him a little shake, which upped the whine by an octave. Rolling his eyes Hiccup took the Neosporin out of his pocket, undoing the cap with the same hand.  
  
“Need some?” he asked, proffering it.  
  
“No,” she said, hiking her lip and shaking her head a little. “Do you seriously just carry that around with you?” she demanded.  
  
Hiccup shrugged, dabbing some on his leg. “Yep.”  
  
“I was talking about the cat.”  
  
“Then… also yes.”  
  
There was a pause, in which there was only the sound of seagulls and turning waves. Hiccup had the feeling that, for her, this encounter hadn’t gone the way she had imagined it in her head. Well that made two of them. He literally had no idea what to say in this situation. Seriously, life had given him _two_ chances at a first impression with this woman and in the first one, he’d made an ass of himself, and in the second one, he’d landed on it.  
  
Wonderful. He actually should have predicted this.  
  
“So? Are you going to enlighten me about the creepy cat pictures?”  
  
“Um, right,” Hiccup cringed, screwing the top back on the Neosporin, still keeping a hold of aforementioned growling creepy cat with one arm. “It was an accident?”  
  
“Hm,” she said, making a point of scrolling through her phone with her eyebrows high. “I have gotten three separate pictures of two different cats in the past two hours.” She put her arm down, and leaned forward over where he was still lying in the sand, casting a shadow. If Hiccup were not already on the ground he would have leaned back because if she was trying to be intimidating, it was definitely working. On the other hand, her eyes were very blue, she wore a sports bra under a plain white tank top and was rocking it, and her voice sounded very dangerous as she said, “Who did you give my number out to?”  
  
This was just getting better and better.  
  
Hiccup froze, trying to recall any justifiable explanation he had for allowing Snot to lay his hands on this woman’s number. There was none. There would never be, especially if—oh god, Snot was never ever allowed to find out what she looked like. And if she thought cat pictures were bad… Hiccup would never forgive himself.  
  
The panic and guilt he was feeling must have flashed over his face, because she stood straight again, folding her arms and favoring him with a cool, vindicated look. The blue leash, full of slack with her dog still peeking from between her ankles, waved around with the movement.  
  
“So, okay, today it… wasn’t an accident,” Hiccup admitted, ashamed to admit at this point he was holding Toothless like a goddamn shield, “but, hah, this is a funny story actually—”  
  
“Trust me. I’ve been laughing.” She did not look at all like she’d been laughing.  
  
Cringing, he bowled on, “—well, it’s my cousin’s birthday today, and it’s also kinda my one-year anniversary of getting Toothless— _ow_ , thanks, bud—and, um—”  
  
“I don’t like being messed around with,” she growled, taking a step forward. “You showed up on _my_ beach.”  
  
“Okay, first of all, we only started messing with you today. And second, seriously? It’s just cats. Third—”  
  
“It’s not just about the damn cat pictures! It’s the principle of the thing, it’s common courtesy, it’s—how did you even get my number?” Her face screwed up, and then she burst out: “ _Why_?”  
  
Hiccup looked down at Toothless, whose tail was whipping in irritation, laughed a little, then looked back up. Her face was blotchy red, although from exertion from her jog or chasing him down or whatever, or purely from anger he was unable to tell. She breathed like a bull through her nose and the ocean breeze tugged at the flyaways in her ponytail. It was kinda glorious.  
  
“I apologize from the bottom of my heart,” he said, as sincerely as he could manage considering the subject matter, “about the unsolicited cat pictures. It was a misdial that just… snowballed, and it will not happen again. Wait,” he said, loudly, waving his free hand when she opened her mouth to interrupt, “hold on, let me guess.”  
  
He paused, waited for her confusion to settle, her eyebrows twisting together.  
  
And Hiccup couldn’t help himself as he continued, “By previous experience I gather your next question will be, _Who is this_.” At her huff of disbelieving laughter, Hiccup lifted Toothless a little by the harness, whose three paws grabbed his shirt and pulled at it with the movement. There were faint ripping sounds and he rolled his eyes. “This, is Toothless. The cat.”  
  
Her eyes ran over both of them skeptically, then, voice filled with derision, she asked, “And you call him Toothless because…?”  
  
“Because he doesn’t bite?”  
  
And Hiccup could swear, by the way her mouth pinched together and screwed her eyebrows further down, that she almost smiled for real. At the same time he was keenly aware of his pathetic position on the sand in front of her.  
  
She said dryly, “That’s a little misleading, don’t you think?”  
  
“It was his only positive trait for the longest time, I needed to something to celebrate. At _least_ he doesn’t bite.” Hiccup said that last sentence like a mantra, because it had been, for a while. Then he held out his hand, both to shake and as a subtle plea for a hand up. “Hi? My name’s Hiccup?”  
  
For some reason, that was exactly the wrong thing to say. Shaking her head, she said, “You just don’t stop, do you. Come on, Stormfly.”  
  
The pitbull hopped up and gave Hiccup, or Toothless, a wide berth as the woman strode past him. Hiccup stared a second with his hand still in the air, wondering how _that_ was the dealbreaker in the conversation, of all things.  
  
Then he scrambled up, only slipping once before catching himself. Toothless was dislodged but managed to spring up onto Hiccup’s lower back as he hopped, trying to pull his left sandal on a little more securely, while at the same time brushing away as much of the clinging sand as he could.  
  
“Wait wait!” he said, catching up to her as the cat slung himself over his shoulder; Hiccup laced his fingers through the harness, just in case. “I wasn’t messing with you again, I promise, that’s my—what I call myself. I mean, I hate my first name.”  
  
The woman stopped with a loud sigh, like he was ruining her whole day. “What is this, some sort of clever ploy to get me to ask your name?”  
  
Okay, Hiccup thought, so it wasn’t a trick of the light, her eyes were actually that color blue. He winced and shifted to the side, pulling at an earlobe. “No, I’m just trying to—I don’t know. I call my cousin Snot, if that… helps.” Now that he said it Hiccup didn’t see why it would.  
  
“You seem to have a lot of cousins,” she snapped.  
  
“Same cousin, actually… kind of a middle school thing that stuck.” Hiccup glanced around, thinking the cousin in question would pick this time of any to show up, but luckily his vision remained Snot-free.  
  
Finally she rolled her eyes, as if she hated herself for even asking, before drawling, “So what’s worse than _Hiccup_?”  
  
Hiccup had actually hoped she wouldn’t ask this question, and luckily Toothless bought him time by slipping onto his other shoulder, forcing Hiccup to change hands in order to keep hold of the harness; the cat’s gleaming green eyes were trained on the dog at the woman’s feet.  
  
“Hank,” he finally said, trying not to cringe as he said it, because that was probably half the problem.  
  
Finally he felt the cat settle down across his neck, tail still whisking at his ear, but relaxed enough for Hiccup to drop his hold on the harness.  
  
“Hank,” she repeated.  
  
Hiccup shrugged, brushing Toothless’ tail away then pulling his hand through his hair.  
  
“You sound like you’re about to start lecturing some kid named Bobby.”  
  
“I do wrestle with that urge some days,” allowed Hiccup with a somber nod.  
  
He was rewarded with a shrewd raised eyebrow, and about ten percent of a smile. “You know you could have sent all that in a text,” she lifted her chin and crossed her arms. “Like a year ago, the first time I asked.”  
  
Hiccup froze for a moment, then dared to look at her, mind working very quickly; her voice and stance was challenging, but her expression was still slightly amused. “You were pretty terrifying like a year ago,” he admitted; he hesitated, smiled, and added, “You were pretty terrifying like a minute ago.”  
  
“And I’m not terrifying now?” she asked as she took a step away.  
  
Hiccup fell into pace beside her. “A little less.” He brought his index finger and thumb really close to indicate that it was just a tiny little bit less. “Once I realized Stormfly here has the ‘guard dog’ concept backwards—”  
  
“Hey, don’t you—how dare you!” She kneeled down to pull the pitt’s head between her hands, rubbing briefly and shooting Hiccup a reproachful glare. “It’s that big mean cat, isn’t it,” she murmured to a few sloppy dog kisses through a jutting rake of teeth; Toothless flexed his claws into Hiccup’s shoulder. “She had a bad experience when she was a puppy, okay?”  
  
Hiccup held up his hands. “I was scared the first time I met Toothless too, can’t even blame her.”  
  
Snorting, she stood and nodded at the cat resting his head below Hiccup’s ear. “Try having a picture of that thing show up an hour after you activate your new phone.”  
  
“I can’t call your dog a wimp but you can call my cat a thing?”  
  
“Apparently.”  
  
Hiccup opened his mouth, shook his head a little, and closed his mouth, having expected a bit more of an argument. As she stood with a final pat to Stormfly’s head, he caught a crafty sideways smile.  
  
Luckily, Toothless didn’t understand English any more now than he had when Hiccup discovered him on that first day, so the insult went over his head. He happily stretched out his neck when Hiccup, himself pouting, scratched him under the chin.  
  
Truthfully, Hiccup was captivated. She had chased him down with a pitbull that was apparently afraid of cats, then proceeded to baby-talk at it, and on top of it all she unironically wore a bright orange fanny pack, and then like a nice neat underline she was stunning. Just altogether. Hiccup was glad they had resumed their slow walk forward, because he needed to look where he was going and that made it difficult to stare at the sharp tanline on her neck and collarbone from the wide strap of her sports bra, or the way her high ponytail swayed with each step.  
  
If Hiccup were realistic with himself, he really should bow out right now. He had no idea how he’d managed to say so many words to her without actually eating sand at this point. Seriously, before he did or said something else completely idiotic, or before Toothless pounced at her ponytail, or anything. Quit while he was ahead. But she hadn’t told him to go away yet, and she struck Hiccup as the type of person that would tell someone to go away if she wanted them to go away. It didn’t help that she was painfully fun to talk to, and that he was finding it difficult to resist pushing the mark and figuring out where her edges were. They were cutting, he knew that much.  
  
“I’m shocked you’ve managed to stay quiet this long.”  
  
Hiccup raised his eyebrows, then turned his head forward and laughed nervously, worried she caught him staring. “Oh, you know,” he said, “trying to figure out how to ask your name without you overreacting.”  
  
“Are you.”  
  
When Hiccup glanced over, she was giving him a look that made him feel like a complete idiot. The pitbull Stormfly padded along silently on her other side.  
  
“Yeah, I mean, you had the perfect opportunity, back when I was introducing myself.”  
  
“Did I.”  
  
Hiccup chewed the inside of his lip, uncertain as to how annoyed she actually was right now. But he said, “You know, like, reciprocation. I think I’ve dropped enough hints by this point.”  
  
“Have you?”  
  
He frowned down at her for a second, compulsively reaching up to scratch Toothless behind the ear, who between the rocking motion of the walk and the relative lack of dog-howling and slobbering, was purring sleepily on his shoulder.  
  
“But then I’m forced to assume that if you were planning on telling me, you would have done it already,” Hiccup said.  
  
“That’s a pretty sound assumption.”  
  
“I mean, I really have no right to ask your name, considering I’ve already abused the privilege of your phone number.”  
  
“This is also true.” She looked so smug.  
  
Hiccup smiled widely, and faced forward as he said, “Okay, I guess you’re Not-Snot forever then.”  
  
Stormfly for the first time walked until her lead snapped tight, and she looked around inquisitively at her owner, who herself had stopped short. “ _Really_?”  
  
Still grinning and stooping a bit to scratch the dog under the chin, Hiccup pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Sorry, Not-Snot.” Toothless stretched on his shoulder and Hiccup felt him begin to misbalance, so he caught him by the harness and lay him draped within the crook of one arm.  
  
She pulled a face at him. “Not-your-cousin was the best you could come up with?”  
  
“Look, it’s in my contacts, practically makes it official.”  
  
Scoffing, and stomping past him again, she muttered, “Yeah, I have you as Creepy Warcat Guy.”  
  
Hiccup couldn’t answer for a moment, he just drifted after her. Finally, he said hoarsely, “That’s amazing.”  
  
“At least better than what you came up with,” she said airily, “and here’s a tip…” She swung around to face him, and this was intoxicating, she was so close and her hair was stained dark with sweat or saltwater, and her eyes were huge even with her eyebrows pulled down low, and of course the cat had to be between them in Hiccup’s arms. Of course. “If you’re trying to pick up a girl, avoid using the word _overreact_.”  
  
At this point, he should have just conceded and said, _Duly noted_. Maybe quibbled a bit over the term _picked up_ , but that really should have been the farthest he dared.  
  
But Hiccup was kind of a stickler for the details, so he couldn’t help but point out, “You came after me with a pitbull.”  
  
When she looked taken aback, he clarified, “Because of a few cat pictures.”  
  
And honestly, he might have actually surfed clear through that gigantic wave if he had stopped himself there and not gone any further, but something and god only knows what induced him to add, “I mean, it wasn’t like I sent you dick pics or anything.”  
  
_Why why why_ , Hiccup thought, briefly closing his eyes, as if that would somehow rewind this moment in time. This was Snot’s fault. Somehow, this was all Snot’s fault. Of everything in his short-term memory, Hiccup just had to… well, this was it. This had to be the dealbreaker in the conversation; he really should have bowed out earlier.  
  
“Are you serious,” she said.  
  
“Wow,” said Hiccup.  
  
“Did you really just say to me, at least I didn’t send a dick pic.”  
  
“No—no,” Hiccup repeated, when she looked about to argue, “there’s actually linguistically ah, a difference between _at least I didn’t_ and _it wasn’t like I sent a dick pic_ , because, oh god—” He said it again. He said dick pic again.  
  
Hiccup covered his face with one hand. When he peeked through his fingers, she didn’t even look revulsed. Just disappointed, shaking her head sadly at him.  
  
“You really can’t stop, can you.” There was a pitying edge to her tone.  
  
Hiccup sighed and looked down at Toothless nestled in his arm. The cat was fully awake, and even _his_ face was judgy.  
  
“Will you—” Hiccup grimaced. “Can you just, like, delete the last five minutes from your brain and let me start over?”  
  
She raised an eyebrow which, well, it wasn’t a _No_.  
  
“Hi. I’m Hiccup. This is Toothless,” he bounced his forearm a little, Toothless responding appropriately by clutching on with his claws. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.” And he held out his free hand for her to shake.  
  
Toothless growled low then began to climb his way back up the front of Hiccup’s shirt.  
  
To his amazement, she smiled and took it. “Hi Hiccup.” He was floored by the possibility that she may have actually maybe forgiven him, and between this and the way her face looked when she smiled, Hiccup almost missed what came next: “I don’t give my name to guys who wear velcro strap sandals.”  
  
Hiccup didn’t let go of her hand because he was not actually that stupid, but he did stop shaking it and look down at his feet. Well, foot and not-foot.  
  
Then he felt really kinda offended.  
  
“You’re wearing a _fanny pack_!” he exclaimed.  
  
She wrenched her hand out of his to jab a finger in his face. “Fanny packs are useful!” she barked.  
  
“So’s velcro.”  
  
Making a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, and after shaking her head one last time, she turned and jogged away. Stormfly picked up to a trot beside her, blue leash bobbing into the horizon.  
  
Hiccup watched her go for a few seconds, then wanted to punch himself in the face.  
  
So he actually was that stupid. He had managed to dodge the eternal flame he by all accounts deserved for even _thinking_ the term dick pic in front of a girl he just met, let alone saying it aloud. Why had he immediately after this, of all things, started in on the fanny pack? Like, it was gonna get mentioned eventually, because something like that deserved to be discussed. But he could have given it a few minutes’ grace so soon after… oh god.  
  
He could now honestly say he made women run away from him. What a milestone. All at the plucky age of twenty-four too. Not even out of grad school yet.  
  
When he looked down, Toothless was still judging him with his eyes.  
  
“Snot cannot know about any of this,” Hiccup told him.  
  
*


	2. Chapter 2

*  
  
It was late afternoon when Hiccup and Snot pulled up in front of Hiccup’s house, and by that time, Hiccup had decided that fanny packs were the greatest invention in the world. Seriously, they were like one big pocket that went with every outfit. They didn’t _have_ to be the color of a migraine, surely someone somewhere on the Internet sold what could be described as tasteful fanny packs. And instead of having things fall out of pockets for those who used pockets, or losing their bag somewhere for those who carried bags, the fanny pack was right there, attached, and best of all _it had a zipper_. Fanny packs were awesome. Fanny packs were the future. Hiccup was an idiot for implying that fanny packs were anything other than wonderful and devastating and witty and attractive.  
  
Hiccup thought he could really get down with fanny packs. Unfortunately he highly doubted he would ever see a fanny pack again.  
  
“…ellooooo?”  
  
A dull pain burst in Hiccup’s shoulder. “Ahh,” he whined, rubbing the sore spot and glaring at Snot. “What? What do you want?”  
  
Snot lowered his fist. “You’ve been boring the whole ride back, man!”  
  
“I’m tired, we’ve been at the beach like all day.” He turned off the car, hooking his keyring around his thumb.  
  
“You didn’t even do anything.”  
  
This was true. After the blonde lady had left Hiccup had spent the rest of the time moving to different spots on the beach, while Toothless darted up to the tail-end of the waves. Hiccup had alternated between watching his cat, and watching his phone. And repeating to himself that the very worst idea, after inciting a woman to literally run away, was to text her. Really, he should just delete the entire past text conversation and lose her number, but he couldn’t bring himself to.  
  
From what he’d caught of Snot’s recount of the day, he’d spent all day owning at volleyball and hittin’ the waves with babes, so apparently Hiccup had no right to be tired.  
  
As Hiccup unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted backward to pick a sleeping Toothless out of the backseat, Snot asked, “Oh hey, whatever happened with Not-Me and the pitbull?”  
  
Hiccup, still reaching into the backseat, froze.  
  
“Oh my god you met them didn’t you. Was I right? Was it a lady? It totally was! Was she hot? Hiccup? Hey, Hiccup.”  
  
Hiccup opened his mouth to say something.  
  
“She was, wasn’t she? What! She was hot, and you didn’t tell me! What the hell is the matter with you man! Oh, was it the pitbull? Or did she shove you? Wow, she shoved you and you _fell_?” Snot laughed, hard, slapping his thigh and everything. “I wouldn’t have told me either.”  
  
Hiccup hadn’t closed his mouth yet. What the hell just happened there? “It was actually more of a solid poke in the back, okay—” Dammit! He’d promised himself he wouldn’t tell Snot any of it!  
  
Snot just belted a guffaw again and said, “I am so gonna text her,” and reached into his pocket to pull out his phone.  
  
Narrowing his eyes and resting his hand on the door handle, Hiccup waited until his cousin was sufficiently distracted with composing his message. Once he was, he snatched the phone from Snot’s fingers, opened his door, and hurled himself out of the car and out of Snot’s reach.  
  
Snot had thrown himself sideways into the driver’s seat in his attempt to get his phone back, but was hindered by his seatbelt. Toothless awoke, hissed, and leapt through the gap between the driver’s seat and the open door. He landed like a tree monkey on Hiccup’s swim trunks, forcing him to grab them to keep them up.  
  
“Hey!” The passenger side door opened and Snot’s head appeared above the roof. “Gimme back my phone, freak!”  
  
Hiccup put the phone behind his back, as if his cousin could reach over the car and re-steal it. “You literally can _not_ text her,” he said, as he used his other hand to haul Toothless up to his shoulder.  
  
“Come on, man! You just don’t want—”  
  
Before Snot could finish that sentence, maybe because it was a little bit true, Hiccup interrupted, “I am ninety-five percent sure she’ll call the cops if either of us bother her again.”  
  
And since this was a lot true, and since Hiccup absolutely believed it, Snot crossed his arms defiantly.  
  
“You have to promise,” Hiccup insisted.  
  
Snot rolled his eyes.  
  
“Out loud,” Hiccup said patiently.  
  
“Fine,” Snot snarled, “I promise, okay? Now gimme back my phone.”  
  
Hiccup slid the phone across the roof toward his cousin, rolling his eyes as well.  
  
They left the rest of their stuff in Hiccup’s trunk as they walked up the sidewalk and around back where Hiccup’s front door technically was. Snot babbled on about the night’s birthday plans.  
  
“…and _oh my god_ man, I found this bar and we are gonna get so fuckin’ wasted tonight you don’t even know—”  
  
Oh. Right. Hiccup’s stomach shrank in dread. “Yeeeah, about that—”  
  
“No! No no no!” Snot declared, stopping a few feet from the door and pointing at Hiccup with each denial.  
  
“I’m really not in the mood to get dr—”  
  
“Come on, it’s gonna be so much fun! Like five of my old frat guys are gonna be there—”  
  
Grimacing, and reaching up to scratch a purring Toothless behind the ear, Hiccup muttered, “I’m really exhausted after today—”  
  
“—and you can forget about the hot girl that beat you up—”  
  
Hiccup sighed, jingling his keys in his hand, because that was part of the problem. If he went out with Snot tonight to get drunk, he would have to delete her number instantly. As in, right now. It was the only way to preserve his dignity and, quite possibly, the cleanliness of his criminal record.  
  
“—I mean,” Snot laughed, “it’s not like you have other plans tonight or anything—”  
  
In his swim trunk pocket, Hiccup’s phone buzzed.  
  
After Hiccup checked it, he turned on his heel and began walking back to his car.  
  
“Hey! Hey! Where are you going?”  
  
Hiccup dashed off a quick _Omw_ and put the phone back in his pocket. “I have plans!” he called over his shoulder.  
  
“Who was that?” Then, much louder as Snot caught up with him, “Shit man, was that her?” And when Hiccup didn’t answer he held out his hand. “Let me see your phone.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Okay, I’ll just come with.”  
  
“No. Oh my god.” Hiccup turned around to face his cousin’s stubborn look. “No. Here.” Hiccup dug his wallet out of his other pocket, and he had almost forty dollars left after Snot’s birthday.  
  
He gave one ten dollar bill to Snot, who took it coolly, folded it, and tucked it under the one of the temples of his aviators.  
  
“Go party with your SB buddies,” Hiccup continued, backing away, “first drink’s on me, happy twenty-fourth and everything, bye.”  
  
He had just opened the driver’s side door when Snot shouted, “Hiccup!”  
  
“What!” Hiccup yelled back.  
  
“I need my keys.”  
  
Cursing, Hiccup shut the door, went to the trunk, opened it, threw Snot’s shopping bag of his stuff at him, and slammed the trunk again.  
  
“Hiccup!”  
  
“Oh my god, _what_?”  
  
“My beach towel.” Snot held out a hand imperiously.  
  
Hiccup pursed his lips and stared daggers at his cousin as he opened the trunk again, grabbed the stupid fire towel, and shot it at Snot’s head. Snot caught it easily.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Hiccup went back to get in his car.  
  
“Hiccup!”  
  
Hiccup skidded to a halt and widened his arms like, _What_.  
  
“I want ten dollars.”  
  
“Wh—I just _gave_ you a ten!”  
  
“Well now I want another ten.”  
  
Shaking his head in disbelief, Hiccup slid into his car. The difference between now and middle school was that now he could just drive the hell away, which was what he did.  
  
And as he pulled out of his neighborhood he felt Toothless stir on his shoulders then hop into the front seat.  
  
“Dammit!” Hiccup smacked a palm against the steering wheel, and Toothless started to clean himself. “I thought I dropped you off, cat.”  
  
Except, right, he hadn’t. Didn’t even make it to the door.  
  
Still, far too late to turn around now. Oh well. So he was showing up with the cat.  
  
Hiccup drove as quickly as he dared, turning the radio on but unable to get into the music. It felt like it took forever to get there and twice as long to find parking, because he had less than thirty bucks and needed street parking so as to not arrive completely broke. It was around six o’clock by the time he locked his car with Toothless acting as a neck warmer, with the early evening descending cool along the coast.  
  
She had texted him a picture of the pier, and nothing else. Like, that was a hint if anything, right? She’d recognized the ferris wheel in the background in the last picture of Toothless and that was how she found him, so clearly he was supposed to flip the situation here? What if she left already? What if she—oh god—what if she was just never there in the first place and was just, what, teaching him some sort of lesson? He’d received no answer to his reply that he was on his way. So. That was that. What the hell, the worst that could happen was that he make a fool of himself, and it wasn’t like that hadn’t already happened a half-dozen times since noon.  
  
When Hiccup spotted her she was standing at the main pier entrance near the staircase, dog-free, bent over her phone with her elbows propped on the railing. Hiccup caught her in profile, her bright hair now neater, pulled into a loose braid over her shoulder. A bulky unzipped blue hoody concealed most of her torso, but she was wearing jean shorts that barely peeked out from beneath the hem of the hoodie and the effect was, well, nice.  
  
Hiccup could tell she wasn’t the type to stare longingly at her phone like he was, because she was actively texting somebody else, a tight grin appearing at one of the replies. He walked carefully, trying not to scuff the toe of his sandals against the planks, and reached up to stroke Toothless; then he very deliberately hooked a thumb under the kitty harness, not trusting the cat to not ruin this for him. Whatever _this_ was. If he could keep a lid on stupid shit like dick pics.  
  
Immediately tomorrow he was going to figure out how to excise a term from his personal vocabulary.  
  
“So for someone who doesn’t like to be messed around with,” Hiccup said when he got close enough, “you sure like to mess with people.”  
  
Her head snapped up and turned, widened eyes betraying that she was a little taken aback. God, she was all showered and clean and pretty, and here he was, still full of Day At the Beach, wearing his cat. But when she met his apologetic smile, she shot a half-grin in return, said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” and went back to her text.  
  
Swallowing down a knot of nervousness, Hiccup joined her at the railing, leaning sideways against it to face her. “Well, I manage to make you literally run away from me—completely understandable, by the way, I wanted to run away from me at that… point too—”  
  
She interrupted him with a laugh that was only part-mocking despite her next words. “I wasn’t running away from you, idiot.”  
  
“You weren’t?” He shifted forward. The evening sun picked red out of her yellow braid, and her pale eyelashes seemed to reflect light as she blinked. Most importantly, the smile that lingered after her laugh was so small, but it was there.  
  
“No, I needed to get back to my jog,” she said distractedly, not looking up from her phone, “I do the whole beach and back every day.”  
  
“Wow. That’s…” insane? outrageous? really sexy? Hiccup ended up going with, “impressive. But still you just kinda”—He let go of Toothless to wave his arm in a manner that implied the way she zoomed off—“left?”  
  
“Oh, without a word, you mean?”  
  
“Okay,” he sighed, “point taken.”  
  
“Mhmm,” she straightened with a satisfied nod, and hit a button so her phone went dark.  
  
“I honestly thought I had offended you with the whole fanny”—and she turned around to face him and _holy goodness_ she was still wearing it, she was still wearing the orange fanny pack, now unzipping it in order to stow her phone. And her eyes were just daring him to say anything. Hiccup dropped his delighted grin, and other than that and the break in his sentence he recovered very well in his opinion—“the whole fanny pack thing, and well, I guess the last person I expected to see a text from was… Not-Snot.”  
  
He considered it a pretty good subtle-but-not-subtle-enough ploy for her name.  
  
She ignored the unspoken question however, and instead herself asked, “You really think the fanny pack thing was the offensive part of the conversation?”  
  
“It was the part where you ran away! I don’t know,” Hiccup rumpled his hair worriedly, dislodging sand onto Toothless, who flinched and bounded onto the railing. “Straw, camel’s back, etcetera.”  
  
Meantime, he noticed, she shot a quick look at the cat who was sitting on the railing and staring at her, because, right, Toothless didn’t exactly have a track record for polite greetings. Not when he was surprised, anyway. Hiccup grabbed his harness again to keep him from wandering, or pouncing.  
  
Her eyes swept over Hiccup, and she crossed her arms. “Have you been here all day?”  
  
Glancing down, Hiccup shuffled his position a little. She hadn’t mentioned his leg, or otherwise her gaze hadn’t lingered too long at it, and he couldn’t tell if it was because she hadn’t noticed or because she had but was waiting for him to bring it up first. Then he remembered she had looked close enough to notice the velcro strap sandals earlier.  
  
“No. I made it home. Sort of. I didn’t get to the door, I kinda turned around as soon as you…” Okay, that sounded pathetic. He diverted this line of conversation: “I don’t actually walk that slowly, you know.”  
  
“I know,” she said wryly, tossing her bangs out of her eye, “you were booking it when I first spotted you.”  
  
Hiccup stared at her for a moment. “I have no idea why you finally texted me again,” he finally said.  
  
She blinked at him. “Why do you think?”  
  
“Um, because,” he paused, because he honestly didn’t know, or if he suspected he didn’t dare say it aloud, “you’re a nice person?”  
  
“ _Nice_?” she spat, as if he’d called her a bad word. Her arms hadn’t uncrossed yet.  
  
Hiccup hesitated, but her face was more shocked than angry. “Yeah, you let me screw up like… five separate times before you cleared off, and somehow I’m here anyway, so…”  
  
“I don’t know,” her eyebrows came high, “maybe I enjoyed watching you bungle your way through a conversation.”  
  
Hiccup was relieved. “Good, because that happens a lot.”  
  
“And you bring the cat.”  
  
Toothless had actually been sitting relatively quietly, allowing Hiccup to hold him by the harness, but his scarred glare was fixed on the woman’s face.  
  
“Sorry. He kinda muscles his way in whenever. You know, he’s not actually as evil—he can be kinda cute sometimes.”  
  
“It looks like he confuses you with a scratching post.”  
  
Hiccup laughed, then let go of the harness to scratch Toothless the spot above his tail. It was the sweet spot: the cat stretched out his neck and back, climbing forward on the railing with his front paws and chewing at the air. He looked, in all honesty, ridiculous.  
  
“See, hold out your hand now,” he said.  
  
When Hiccup glanced up her arms were still crossed. But after a moment she stuck out her arm, fingers curled inward to a loose fist. The long sleeve of her hoodie fell down past her palm. As soon as her hand was close enough Toothless pushed each cheek against her knuckles in two quick dashes.  
  
Hiccup let out a little breath because no blood was drawn in that encounter, and stopped scratching above the cat’s tail. Toothless settled his butt down again, chest expanding in begrudging purrs. Then he raised a forepaw.  
  
She snapped her hand back. “Sorry,” she said, with an embarrassed laugh. “It’s just—”  
  
“Yeah,” said Hiccup, picking up the cat by his harness, “I get it, creepy warcat.” Also, Toothless _was_ in all likelihood about to bat at her hand, because that was the type of thing Toothless did. Right now he was still scrabbling up Hiccup’s chest with his single back leg, and Hiccup bent his head to allow him to settle across the back of his neck as always. “Anyhow, so, you know how it goes, cousin stole my lunch money and stuff—”  
  
This managed to secure a laugh, and she stepped forward to grab his wrist and start walking them down the length of the pier.  
  
Somewhat encouraged by this, and making sure to grab Toothless with his other hand, Hiccup continued, “But, after parking I managed to hold onto almost twenty whole dollars, so we can get like a hot dog, or we can hit the ferris wheel, but not both.” He considered. “Well, _you_ can do both, but I’d be kind of humming awkwardly on the sidelines…”  
  
She shook her head, still grinning. “Come on, you idiot,” she said, pulling him toward the ticket line.  
  
“So what do you do, when you’re not running seven miles a day?”  
  
She aimed a curious look at him, then faced forward. “I have a degree in business econ. I give tennis lessons sometimes.”  
  
“You play tennis?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
There was another pause, in which Hiccup was attentive to the fact that she was still holding his wrist with a loose hand. He didn’t know what to do with his arm, or his hand; he ended up holding it a few inches outward of his side, and tried not to focus on fiddling with his fingers.  
  
When she didn’t elaborate, Hiccup glanced over, and her gaze was scanning over the crowd.  
  
“Do you like it?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah, I like it a lot.”  
  
He nodded slowly, adjusting his grip on Toothless’ harness, trying to figure out of she was naturally taciturn, or if she was doing this on purpose.  
  
“You any good?” he ventured.  
  
“Yeah, usually.”  
  
And that was that.  
  
“Sorry, that’s as specific as I get when it comes to… sports,” Hiccup said. “The only other thing I know is that UCLA sucks.”  
  
She turned her head very slowly at him, and let go of his wrist.  
  
“You got your degree there, didn’t you,” he said.  
  
“I sure did,” she said.  
  
“Crap. Can I reiterate that I know nothing about sports?”  
  
“You went to USC? _Really_?”  
  
“Going.” Hiccup pulled Toothless off his shoulder. “Listen, I hope this isn’t a dealbreaker.”  
  
“I don’t know, I think we’ve crossed that line.” She planted her hands on her hips.  
  
“If it means anything, I’m not an undergrad.”  
  
“Why would that mean anything?”  
  
“I don’t have that undergrad zeal?”  
  
“Like I do, you mean?”  
  
“Wow, I did not say that. Do this with your arms?” With the arm that wasn’t holding Toothless, Hiccup demonstrated by laying flat a forearm.  
  
Frowning, lips curving with suspicious scorn, she did so.  
  
Hiccup deposited Toothless onto her outstretched arms and went to pay for their tickets.  
  
When he got back she was wide-eyed and hadn’t altered her stance a bit. Toothless himself looked a little strained with his legs splayed out, toes spread wide.  
  
“Sorry, she wouldn’t have sold me tickets if she saw Tooth,” Hiccup said with a smirk, taking the cat back.  
  
Somewhat self-consciously she straightened her sleeves.  
  
As they began to amble toward the ferris wheel line, Toothless gratefully perched on his shoulder, three sets of claws intermittently flexing with the sway of Hiccup’s step.  
  
“I guess he’s not so bad,” she finally said, finger winding around the end of her braid.  
  
“Nah. You were right about the scratching post thing though.”  
  
“And the LA versus SC thing.”  
  
“Right. Of course.”  
  
“So what are you gonna do about the warcat?” she asked as they waited in the ferris wheel line, nodding to the ticket-taker at the entrance.  
  
“I’d rather you call Toothless by his name, Not-Snot,” Hiccup said pointedly.  
  
“What are you gonna do about him?”  
  
“I don’t know yet,” said Hiccup, “technically he’s not allowed on the pier at all.”  
  
“Yes,” she said, “I know this.”  
  
“Right. You bring Stormfly with you every day? When you run?”  
  
“Usually. She keeps people from talking to me. I don’t stop on the pier though.”  
  
“Do you find it weird that I know your dog’s name before I know yours?”  
  
“Nope.” She looked sideways at him. “You talk an awful lot.”  
  
“I’ll shut up, if you want me to.”  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She grinned up at him, and Hiccup grinned back.  
  
When warmth rushed up his neck he looked down. He managed to hide most of his flush by Toothless switching shoulders, necessitating a little help on Hiccup’s part.  
  
“So? You said you’re in a grad program?” There was a nudge in his side.  
  
Hiccup looked up again. “Yeah,” he stammered. “Master of planning. Not—scheming, like city planning.”  
  
He caught her amused look, that he felt the need to clarify this.  
  
Sighing at himself, he added, “It’s actually not that interesting to talk about.”  
  
“I was a business economics major. Try me.”  
  
“You want me to bore you? Let me tell you all about this class I took last semester. The first thing you need to know is that it has _data_ and _statistics_ in the title…”  
  
Over the noise of the nearby rollercoaster, they talked a little about the overlap in their respective degrees. She seemed smart, if not exactly ecstatic about what she chose to study. When he asked she just shrugged and said she picked it because she thought it would remain relevant.  
  
“All right,” said Hiccup, as they stepped up next in line. He gave the ride tickets to her. “Just hand him the tickets and keep walking.”  
  
“What’re you gonna say about the cat?” she hissed.  
  
“I’m not gonna say anything, and then hopefully he won’t either.”  
  
“That doesn’t make any—”  
  
“Our turn, come on.”  
  
After a second Hiccup heard her catch up, tossing a glare in his direction as she thrust the pair of tickets at the employee’s chest.  
  
They had just stepped inside the barrier when Hiccup heard, “Dude, you can’t bring that cat in here.”  
  
Luckily, he had a backup plan for this. To keep her moving he hooked his arm around her—carefully mid-back—and called over his shoulder, “Seeing eye cat! We’ll be okay.”  
  
The carriages weren’t traditional benches, but instead were more like those one would find in a parachute, hanging from the wheel frame by their multicolored umbrellas. They shut themselves in one, and once the ferris wheel started moving, she asked, “Did that really just work?”  
  
“I guess so,” Hiccup laughed.  
  
As the roller coaster roared by again, Toothless sprang from Hiccup’s shoulder to one of the outside benches.  
  
“Don’t climb too much, cat,” he warned. Toothless blinked at him then seemed to make a point of trying to perch up on the ledge.  
  
Since it was plastic and slippery, Hiccup couldn’t allow this. Toothless meowed scratchily when Hiccup caught him around the belly and pinned him to his chest as he sat down himself.  
  
When he looked up she was standing in the light, because life had to remind him that she was so completely out of his league. Her eyes were so big and vivid, her hair intensified by the sunset. Why had he suggested the ferris wheel again? Didn’t ferris wheels come with expectations? Like better bring your game, type of thing? Well, if things went according to pattern, this was about to be a big swing and a miss.  
  
Hiccup looked down at his cat. Toothless blinked back up at him.  
  
_Why are you here?_ Hiccup thought.  
  
Toothless meowed, and Hiccup sighed, tugging the cat off his chest to the sound of tearing threads, and placing him on the floor.  
  
“Um,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Will you sit?” The bench went all the way around the carriage, so she had plenty of options, but he scooted over a little anyway.  
  
She was regarding him like she didn’t know whether she wanted to roll her eyes or smile, and kinda ended up doing both as she lowered into the seat next to him.  
  
She boasted a stark sock tan line; her legs were a deep tan, but her feet and ankles were nearly white. She wore slightly tattered black flip-flops and the nail polish on her toes was chipped and blue.  
  
“Can we talk about the elephant in the room here?”  
  
Hiccup froze. Which elephant was she referring to? The cat? The fake foot? The implications of being alone on a ferris wheel at sunset? That he still didn’t know what to call her? Had she caught him taking the opportunity to glance down her legs?  
  
What was she talking about here exactly?  
  
“Ahh,” was his intelligent reply.  
  
She pulled a leg up to sit facing him on the bench. Swallowing dryly, Hiccup focused on her face. Which. It wasn’t like that was a punishment. Freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, easy to see in the late light.  
  
By his feet, Toothless meowed again.  
  
They both looked in his direction, then back at each other.  
  
“Can you just tell me what happened to the damn cat already,” she said.  
  
Grinning, Hiccup drummed his fingers in the empty space between them, and after a moment Toothless was there, pushing against his hand. “What do you wanna know about him?” he asked as Toothless sprung upon his shoulder and perched his forepaws atop Hiccup’s head.  
  
“Did you teach him to—crawl all over you like that?”  
  
After giving Toothless a long-suffering look, Hiccup pulled him back down to his lap. “Nah, he’s pretty much done this since the beginning. I think he thinks that’s what people are there for.”  
  
“He’s pretty good at it.” She had an elbow propped up over the side of the carriage, leaning her head against her fist. They were above the horizon now.  
  
Knowing what she was referring to, Hiccup ran his fingers over Toothless’ left leg, which ended well above the knee. “Yeah,” he said, “he can still do ledges, and leap and stuff. And then he’s got his traction.” He mimicked claws with his hand. “Runs kinda funny though.”  
  
A corner of her mouth pulled up for a second, then her eyelids dropped as she considered the cat. “What happened to him, then?”  
  
“He came like this,” he said, running a thumb over a torn black ear.  
  
“So the shelter didn’t know?”  
  
“What,” Hiccup sniggered, “he’s not a shelter cat. Or if he was he fought his way out.”  
  
An edge of a smile appeared at her lips. “You’re telling me you picked him off the street?”  
  
“Not even close, Not-Snot.”  
  
Her head lifted and her face crunched, then she jabbed him in the shoulder with her fist.  
  
At the same time Toothless meowed again, pushing a paw against Hiccup’s stomach.  
  
“What is with you two!” Hiccup demanded. “I only call you that in lieu of anything better.”  
  
“No, just tell me already.”  
  
“If you don’t guess it in three tries, I will,” Hiccup promised.  
  
She narrowed her eyes. He wondered if she was going to punch him again, and found he wouldn’t mind. It might give him an excuse to grab her hand, if anything.  
  
“Okay,” she finally said, “but I’ve already used one of my guesses.”  
  
“That’s fair.”  
  
“Please don’t say your cousin gave him to you.”  
  
Hiccup shook his head, smirking, nudging Toothless off his stomach again. “One more guess.”  
  
Her expression morphed from consternated, to exasperated, to slightly determined, her fist falling to rest on the railing by his shoulder.  
  
Hiccup gave her an innocent, encouraging smile.  
  
Deepening her frown for a second, she said, “A pack of feral dogs ambushed you in a dark alley and he came to your rescue?”  
  
A laugh broke out of him. “Wow, you impressed her, buddy,” he told Toothless, who meowed again and caught at his wrist with a paw when Hiccup tried to ruffle his ears. “That is actually pretty close to the truth.”  
  
“Really?” Her face brightened, and Hiccup twisted to face her a little better.  
  
“If you replace _dark alley_ with the kitchen in my old apartment, and _rescuing me from a pack of feral dogs_ with attacking my head while I was trying to figure out what to eat for breakfast, then yeah, you’re close.”  
  
“How is that close at all,” she said.  
  
“You got the ambushing part right.”  
  
The last thing he expected was for her to relent to a round of unrefined giggling. But that was what she did, the even posture falling out of her spine and shoulders.  
  
“Where did he—” she finally managed to gasp.  
  
“The refrigerator.”  
  
“He was _in_ the refrigerator?”  
  
“God! No! He was hiding behind the cereal boxes on top of it! Why do—why do you always assume the worst of me?” He shot her a frown when she began to laugh again, but in truth he was savoring the sound, her loose expression, the speckling of freckles across her chest, and she was wearing a red tank top under that bulky hoodie, and the orange fanny pack was just kinda there, and stop checking her out, he ordered himself.  
  
Luckily for him, she didn’t notice, still taking a couple deep breaths to get herself under control. Toothless also chose this moment to climb up Hiccup’s chest, meowing straight in his face.  
  
“What?” Hiccup threw his head back in exasperation. “What, cat, what is it that you want. Oh crap.” He patted his pockets. “What time is it?”  
  
“Past seven, why.”  
  
When Hiccup looked over she was leaning her head in her hand again, watching him with a neutral expression that was nevertheless intriguing. “Nothing, it’s just—” He rolled his eyes at himself. “Forgot to feed him, you know,” he muttered.  
  
He heard her light sigh, matching Hiccup’s own mood; he stroked down the length of Toothless’ back a few times, trying to distract him. It wouldn’t work though. Cat got progressively more annoying and fast, once he realized he was hungry.  
  
From next to him came the sound of a tap-tap-tapping of something against metal, and Toothless sprang off his chest.  
  
“Did you actually—”  
  
She had actually just pulled a cat can, one of the small ones, out of, yes, out of her fanny pack. Holy god. Dumbfounded, he watched as Toothless bounced over to her lap and perched his front paws on the hand that was trying to open the can.  
  
“I can’t open it if you do that,” she said seriously.  
  
_See, Tooth_ , Hiccup still had the wherewithal to think smugly. _She says it too._  
  
Toothless meowed his impatience. She managed to pull the top off and set the can on the bench behind her. Tail askew but as high in the air as possible, he instantly set about licking the gravy off the top.  
  
“Don’t look so surprised,” she snapped, and Hiccup held his hands up. “I made a stop at the Shell Station, what’s the big deal.”  
  
“I’m actually not surprised in the slightest,” Hiccup lied. When he chanced a look he had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling because she looked so disgruntled. “That’s ‘cause I already knew you were nice.”  
  
She scoffed aloud and Hiccup nodded, pretty pleased with himself. Or just pleased in general. At the peaceful sound of the cat purring into his food, Hiccup shifted his seat to look over the back, staring at the sunset. Too bad it was still too bright outside for them to turn on the dancing neon lights that crawled up the railing of the giant wheel. On the other hand, the light notes of sunset couldn’t be beat. They were high enough at this point that Hiccup could barely hear the rollercoaster, and wind pulled through the open carriage. The view from this point, of the ocean, of the beach, of the pier, of the sky, was incredible.  
  
What the hell was he doing, thinking about the view?  
  
Giving his head a little shake, he turned back, saying, “Um.” He had forgotten, partially, that she sat facing him. The set in her blue eyes was… ineffable, so he flitted his gaze down to the fingers that she curled around her ankle. The red nail polish was also chipped, like the blue polish on her toenails.  
  
Hiccup wondered if he could pull off grabbing her hand without having it look like he was trying to cop a feel.  
  
Focused on this for a moment, he was surprised when he felt her other hand grasp at his shoulder. And when he looked up questioningly she tugged him down to a kiss.  
  
For a couple long seconds Hiccup couldn’t react, not even to close his eyes, although she closed hers on the way in. Her mouth was fixed and firm, not moving, unwavering. He could see the individual hairs in her eyebrows. A rush of breath, hers, swept down his upper lip, cooling to brush at his chin.  
  
When he felt her tweak his bottom lip between both her own, Hiccup closed his eyes and dipped his head further to press against her. His hand came up to finally, finally, feel what her hair felt like under his fingers.  
  
But he didn’t get the chance. As soon as he started pulling his weight in this kiss, she slipped her head back and straightened to sit forward, giving him her profile. Caught unawares, he sagged forward, managing to stay himself inches from her shoulder.  
  
_Okay_ , Hiccup thought. Or maybe he said it aloud, because she glanced down at him then looked determinedly away again. Color rushed high up the side of her face, that or the pink light of the sun made it look that way, and her braid appeared even more touchable from this vantage point. She also smelled incredible. As if before leaving home she had bounced her hoodie with three or four dryer sheets.  
  
Hiccup was also fairly certain, at this point, that she would let him hold her hand. Grinning up at her, he sat up to mimic her straight-forward sitting position, and filed this information away for later.  
  
*  
  
Next she dragged him down to the beach, not dragged exactly, but in any case she went and Hiccup followed. When he caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs, stepping onto soft sand, she was taking off her flip-flops and tucking them into the belt of her fanny pack.  
  
Hiccup did not comment.  
  
“Will the water be all right?” she asked when she was done.  
  
“Yeah, he’s actually pretty good with water. He even tolerates baths.” When she squinted at him, he added, “I mean I don’t want to take him swimming, but he’ll walk with us.” He took a step deeper down the beach, feeling a relief and warmth when she followed, strolling along at his pace.  
  
“I was actually asking about you.”  
  
“Oh.” Hiccup looked around when he saw her hand in his peripheral, but she was just letting Toothless sniff her finger. He felt a scrabbling at his right collarbone and automatically helped Toothless to stand. “Yeah, it’s fine. My last one used to float, but this one—oh no, _Toothless_ —”  
  
Hiccup was too late. Toothless leapt.  
  
Lucky her hoodie was so thick, because he landed on her upper arm and clung like a leech.  
  
She lurched sideways a few steps. “Oh my god, why is—”  
  
“I am _so_ sorry—”  
  
By this time Toothless had reached her shoulder and was putting a curious paw into the hood.  
  
Hiccup rolled his eyes, then approached to try to help. She was both trying to slant her head away while at the same time craning it around to retain a glimpse of the cat, resulting in leaning sideways so far Hiccup was surprised she didn’t fall over.  
  
“He’s not the kind of cat that chews hair, is he?” she asked in an urgent tone.  
  
That was an oddly specific question.  
  
“No, I already said he doesn’t bite,” said Hiccup, trying not to laugh as he stepped behind her. “You can stand straight, he’s just trying to get into your hood.”  
  
“Why?” she asked, cautiously standing.  
  
Hiccup tried to delicately pick the cat’s claws out of the fabric. “Again, he thinks they’re there for him. Like a cat pocket.” From this angle he only saw her smile in the rounding of her cheekbone, and he gave Toothless a dirty look as he set the cat in the sand. “Go on, you can walk a while,” he told him. “Lazy animal.”  
  
“I think you’re supposed to have a leash,” she said as they resumed walking a diagonal line toward the waves.  
  
“Yeah, well,” was all Hiccup could think, watching Toothless dart ahead of them.  
  
Brushing away her bangs and straightening the blue hoodie, she tilted her head to regard him. “So your old leg used to float, huh?”  
  
“Right.” They had been talking about that. Hiccup stuck his hands in his pockets and considered his leg, from the black knee brace that covered the socket, to the flesh-matched calf and foot. Ending in, of course, the velcro strap sandal. “They’re hollow, you see, but this one has these really small holes ‘cause it’s actually more of a fabric—” He glanced over to see if her eyes were glazing over, but she perked her eyebrows at him. So jerking his view back forward he went on, “Ah,” but had forgotten where he was.  
  
“How do you get the water out?” she asked.  
  
“Drains out the ankle,” he said proudly, holding the leg up for a moment as he took a step, then plopping it back into the sand to keep stride with her.  
  
He looked over to catch the tail end of a nod, then she opened her mouth and hesitated.  
  
“You can ask,” Hiccup said.  
  
“It’s just,” she said, “you haven’t brought it up at all.”  
  
“I know. It’s not a story I break out that often.”  
  
“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it.”  
  
“It’s not even that.” Hiccup hesitated, peering ahead to see Toothless’ silhouette already dashing at the waveline. Then he faced he expression. For the first time her eyebrows were slanting the other direction, pulling up at the inside. Too bad he was about to ruin it. “It’s ‘cause it makes me look really stupid.”  
  
Her sympathetic look vanished, and she lifted her eyes at the sky. “Now I almost don’t wanna know.”  
  
“I jumped out of a tree.”  
  
Letting out a slow sigh, she glared into the distance, again like she was trying not to give in. But of course she had to. “Why did you jump out of a tree, Hiccup.”  
  
It was the first time she’d used his name since their encounter at the beach, and Hiccup grinned down at her. “Well Not-Snot, the foremost reason is I thought the pond would be deep enough.”  
  
This enticed another ring of laughter, which he listened to for a tick before saying, “I can’t believe you’re _laughing_ at my misfortune.”  
  
“You set it up that way!” she defended, shoving his shoulder.  
  
Hiccup stumbled, exaggerating it a little. “And now you’re pushing me! Careful, or Toothless will come back over here.”  
  
“You’re ridiculous,” she grinned, “there’s more to that story.”  
  
There was. But Hiccup cut it short. “Fractured my leg obviously. They set it, but a bone infection cropped up afterward, so,” he made a guillotine motion with his hand.  
  
“How old were you?”  
  
“I don’t know, high school. One of the summer breaks. I think it was just before sophomore year, but.” He shrugged. “Anyhow. What about you?”  
  
“I don’t have a story that measures up to that,” she said with a short laugh.  
  
“I’m sure you do.”  
  
“Not one I can think of off the bat.”  
  
“Well then start with something easy,” Hiccup said.  
  
They reached the waves, but the water was no more than an inch deep as it rushed up among Hiccup’s sandals, then to her feet. Toothless was a little ahead of them, bopping around the angle of water and watching it very carefully.  
  
Each step sucked his sandals a little into wet sand, but it was a common misconception that velcro didn’t work when wet, so Hiccup left them on to prove a point. Also, it was a little true that there was no _graceful_ way to take off a velcro strap sandal.  
  
“Like what?”  
  
Hiccup was _not_ going to ask her name again. That would be too easy, and she was having far too much fun with that. “Well, for one, you never quite answered my question on what you do in your spare time.”  
  
“Well—” she wavered. “I work out. Like go to the gym and stuff.”  
  
Hiccup paused. Who was this person? “For _fun_? On top of running like five miles a day and playing—”  
  
“They _have_ a rock climbing wall.” She looked him up and down, arms swinging by her sides. “You know, you could probably do it.”  
  
“Rock climbing?” Hiccup took a hand out of his pocket to pull at the hair at the nape of his neck. “Jeez, I don’t know.”  
  
“It’s fake rock climbing. You should try.”  
  
They walked a stretch of wave, intermittently splashing water in front of them.  
  
“I will,” Hiccup said finally. “If you promise to laugh at me the entire time.”  
  
“Oh, that was happening anyway.”  
  
Hiccup shot her a small smile, idled a bit on her profile, and had an errant thought that if this all turned out to be a very detailed dream he was gonna be so mad.  
  
“Okay, now tell me something else,” he said.  
  
“Good grief, you never do stop, do you?” she blurted, exasperated.  
  
“Nope. You haven’t actually told me to shut up yet,” he reminded her. In truth, Hiccup didn’t know what he was looking for. Which shows did Netflix recommend to her? What kind of people were her friends? Could she take the sweatshirt off? No. Not that last one. “There must be one thing in this world you like that’s non-exercisey.”  
  
“My dog.”  
  
“Besides her.”  
  
She made a noise of disdain and frosted a deep glare straight through him, but Hiccup refused to drop it.  
  
Finally, swiveling her head forward, she said, “Well… I do make this one cocktail. It’s really good.”  
  
“Really,” Hiccup said, not expecting this. He glanced forward to watch where he was going and make sure the cat was still in sight, which he was, leaping out of a foaming sheet of saltwater as it receded back into the sand, then back to her again. “So what’s in it?”  
  
“You can’t tell anyone.”  
  
Hiccup zipped his lips shut with his fingers.  
  
“All right.” She scrunched her nose at him in final warning, which didn’t quite have the same edge as her chilly glare. “So you start with a half can of gingerale.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Two shots of rum.”  
  
“Sounds good so far.”  
  
“Then a shot of pineapple juice.”  
  
“… Okay.”  
  
“A dash of Kahlua.”  
  
Hiccup bit his lip. “Sure, why not.”  
  
“Some grenadine.” At his look: “You know, for the coloring.”  
  
“Right. The coloring. That’s important.”  
  
She frowned at him, as if trying to see if he was messing with her. To be honest, Hiccup wasn’t sure if she wasn’t messing with him. She seemed pretty serious. And proud.  
  
And she wasn’t done.  
  
“You pour it all over two cubes of ice—”  
  
“Exactly two?  
  
“Exactly two.”  
  
“Exactly how big are these ice cubes?”  
  
“They’re regular ice cubes!” she snapped. “Okay, so two cubes of ice. After you do that”—Hiccup raised his eyebrows—“you do the whip-cream cone-topping thing, and then, I don’t know. Slice up whatever fruit in your fridge that’s about to go bad, and toss it in there.”  
  
Hiccup couldn’t speak for a moment. The first mistake he would not make was to offer to try it sometime.  
  
“What’s it called?” he managed to choke out, and cleared his throat.  
  
“The Adder,” she proclaimed, using her hands to stretch out a headline in the air in front of her.  
  
“Sounds”— _poisonous_ —“deadly.”  
  
“It’ll fuck you up,” she agreed, “but you don’t even taste the liquor, I swear. You should try it sometime.”  
  
“I may have to,” said Hiccup hollowly.  
  
For a minute or two they walked along, watching Toothless crouch into a stalk as the simmering edges of a wave approached, bat at it until it surrounded all three feet, then recoil back onto dry sand. The sun was orange and nearly touched the ocean.  
  
When he next glanced over she had a small smile on the side of the face that Hiccup could see, and he reached over and plucked her hand away from her side.  
  
“Listen,” he said, interlacing their fingers. Surprise alighted her eyes, then narrowed into something deft when he stepped toward her. “On the ride back home, before you, you know,” his other hand hesitated a second at her braid, “you texted me, and I—” Hiccup made a vague twirling motion with his hand, then he picked the plait up, pulling his thumb and index finger over the silky, solid weave, his gaze flitting ever so often to her face to check how she was taking this.  
  
He caught her eyes slide down momentarily to his fingers before blinking away.  
  
“Well, I found myself thinking a lot,” Hiccup said very seriously.  
  
“Yeah?” she asked, raising her chin a hair. It was more challenging, than inviting.  
  
Still intertwined with her other hand, Hiccup squeezed her fingers briefly. Lowering his sight and trying not to grin too much, Hiccup dropped her braid in order to lightly touch the zipper of the bright orange pouch she strapped around her hips.  
  
Then he looked her in the eye, and said, “I really think I’ve come around on the whole idea of fanny packs.”  
  
She blinked once, then her mouth fell open. “You’re so full of—” and she punched him again on the shoulder, in the fleshy spot under his collarbone.  
  
Laughing, he caught her fist and held it there. “I’m being serious, as soon as I manage to get through my door, I’m getting on Amazon.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Hold on a second.” Hiccup had to get this out. “They’re so convenient. Like a detachable pocket. If you promise not to punch me again I’ll get my phone out and order one right now.”  
  
Her mouth was tight, but in a way he was starting to associate with her trying to hold in a smile. Hopefully. He hoped that was what it was, and let go of her closed fist.  
  
Quirking her eyebrows, she stepped away.  
  
“Wait wait wait,” Hiccup tugged her back by the tips of his fingers, assuring, “I’m shutting up.”  
  
“Pardon me for not believing you.”  
  
He managed to retain a light grip on her hand. Eyes flickering over every detail of her face before the sun disappeared—the way her bangs tickled her eyelashes, the soft point of her chin—Hiccup gave her an apologetic grimace. And his free hand reached up to push his thumb along her jawline.  
  
A smile tugged loose at her lips, and Hiccup bent down to kiss it, settling his palm into the hollow under her jaw. Now properly expecting it, he stepped closer, trying to remember where her feet were so as to not trod at them, and successful in this, slid his fingers into the smooth, loose hair at the nape of her neck. He pulled away from her lips to rest his forehead on hers, only to switch to the other side of her nose. The new position of his hand allowed him to pull her up to his mouth again, shifting after a moment to capture her bottom lip instead.  
  
Whoever she was, she tasted like salt.  
  
There was a sharp scrape of nails down his throat, then he felt fingers close around his shirt collar and pull. Enthralled with the noise she made under his mouth, and realizing he had a hand empty, he closed it blindly around her, sort of hoping he’d miss and get a little too low. The bulk of her sweatshirt made it almost too difficult to tell, but after tightening his grip he felt the evidence of the hard planes of her back.  
  
Her other hand tingled up his chest, up the side of his neck, to fist a handful of hair. Hiccup humphed at the sharp sting, only to feel the dig of teeth into his bottom lip. The hand roaming across her back managed to find the outline of a hip.  
  
Her fanny pack was definitely in the way, a hard lump between them, not even the embarrassing kind either. Hiccup couldn’t help it and let out a voiceless laugh against her lips. All he heard was a quick inhale of breath, and then both of her arms hooked around his neck.  
  
He closed his mouth against hers one more time before desnaring his fingers from her hair, brushing them down her neck to rest lightly atop her shoulder. Calling upon every modicum of self-control he possessed, Hiccup managed to pull back from her lips. With her hold around his neck he wasn’t able to go far. Far enough to open his eyes, not far enough for his gaze to not rest immediately upon her mouth.  
  
“It would be very stupid of me,” Hiccup said, swallowing to try to regain his voice, “to kiss some strange girl a third time without getting her name.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” she said. He felt a leg snake behind his. His good one. He had the feeling she wasn’t getting the point, and that very soon, he’d stop caring about it himself. “You do some really stupid things,” she murmured, letting go of him briefly to push her braid behind her shoulder.  
  
“I do,” Hiccup agreed, skimming his gaze down the line of her newly exposed neck. Peeking from under her sweatshirt was the severe, wide-strapped sports bra tanline. Hiccup pulled his attention away from this and braced his hand against her hip, and said, “I’m really trying to get better about that.”  
  
Then Hiccup pointedly nudged her backwards.  
  
The affront on her face was almost worth it. But as soon as he stepped away from the warmth of her body, and her arms unlocked from around his neck, he regretted this line of action entirely. It did, however, give him a chance to cast his gaze around for Toothless, who was closer than he expected, settled above the tideline and looking like he needed a nap. Luckily the beach was basically empty. What time was it, at this point? It was very nearly dark. Hiccup pulled his phone out of his pocket. Past eight.  
  
And over a hundred yards away, on Hiccup’s right side, Santa Monica pier burst into prism of color.  
  
“Give me your phone, Hiccup,” she said. Her voice was grumpy and she was looking somewhere to his left, but her palm was held out between them.  
  
Hiccup smiled brightly, made sure his screen was unlocked, and plopped it into her hand.  
  
Stepping close to his side, at which point he could feel the glance of her hair against his cheek, she sidled a hand up his chest as she went through his contacts. Hiccup forced himself to simply hover, breath disturbing flyaways by her temple, wondering where he was gonna kiss her once he finally knew what in the hell her name was. That sports bra tanline kept coming to mind.  
  
There was the pressure of her leg against the back of his calf again.  
  
Her thumb rubbed a spot in the middle of his chest.  
  
The water swelled around their ankles.  
  
And when she shoved, he tripped over her foot and toppled backwards into the water.  
  
Hiccup surfaced and the wave receded, and the first thing he noticed was her high laughter, with too much of an edge of cackle to qualify as giggling. Shaking hair and water out of his eyes, he spotted her nearly doubled over. She was distracted enough that he managed to fasten a hand around her ankle, prepared to give her the same treatment.  
  
Her braid swung forward between them. “I have both the phones,” she reminded.  
  
Still holding her ankle when the next wave swept in, Hiccup considered going for it anyway. “I can’t associate you with my cousin forever.”  
  
Even though, oddly enough, he had Snot to thank for a good deal of this.  
  
“I already put my name in your phone, idiot.” She held out her free hand. “If you stand up you can see for yourself.”  
  
Hiccup narrowed his eyes, but grasped her hand, almost falling over again with the speed with which she pulled him to his feet. Foot.  
  
“Can we take this to dry land?” Wringing water out of his T-shirt and shaking his head at her, Hiccup began the trek out of the clinging waves. Once clear he tapped his finger briefly against his thigh. Toothless stood and began his hop-step over, although it was a fifty-fifty chance, depending on how tired he was, that he’d tolerate being under Hiccup’s dripping hair.  
  
“Here you go,” she said brightly, holding his phone out.  
  
Hiccup looked down at his dripping hands. His first instinct was to wipe his hands on his shirt.  
  
Since he had no other real option and, okay, since he didn’t really have an actual excuse but he wanted to do it, Hiccup dried his hands on the bottom corner of her long hoodie. His eyes never left her face. Then he plucked his phone from her hands, though he had no where to conceivably put it. “So what is your name?” he asked.  
  
“Aren’t you going to check for yourself?”  
  
“What is it?” he asked again.  
  
“That’s good, I actually didn’t have enough time to change it in your phone.”  
  
Hiccup rolled his eyes, and played with the zipper of her hoodie. “It is good,” he finally agreed.  
  
Toothless took that moment to arrive; Hiccup felt the claws in lower back, then the quick scramble up to his shoulder. Cat seemed annoyed at the evidence that there was not a dry place to put his paws, and lay as a tight ball on Hiccup’s shoulder, putting his butt by Hiccup’s ear. Of course.  
  
Out of the edge of his eye he caught the movement of a head shake. “Now that’s just cruel.”  
  
“I know,” said Hiccup, “he—”  
  
But she was raising her eyebrow at Hiccup.  
  
“Me! Who pushed who into the water? I don’t see you offering—why, are you offering to take him?”  
  
The silence was telling enough.  
  
Hiccup grinned when she crossed her arms, peering at Toothless to scratch him behind an ear. “I don’t know, I don’t let just anyone hold my cat.”  
  
“Astrid.”  
  
Hiccup looked over. “Astrid,” he repeated.  
  
Astrid gave a short nod, like she was expecting him to say something.  
  
What was she expecting him to say? He called himself Hiccup. And Astrid was at least ten thousand times better than any other name ever. His name didn’t even belong in the same sentence, frankly. Seriously, she must actually think the worst of him or something.  
  
“I like it,” he said, trying to reign in the superlative so she would believe him. He bobbed his shoulder. “You wanna ride with Astrid, boy?”  
  
Toothless didn’t answer.  
  
Stopping himself from putting his phone in his pocket, Hiccup picked Tooth up one-handed and gestured Astrid closer. Toothless scrambled only a little when he was lowered onto her shoulder, then made a beeline for the hood.  
  
The hoodie was so loose on her that with the cat as a counterweight the hood dangled midback.  
  
God, Toothless was such a pain sometimes.  
  
“Just leave it,” she shrugged, the movement drawing attention to an X-shaped tanline in the center of her upper back. “He’ll be all right.”  
  
“You should at least zip it,” Hiccup said, coming around front to pull the lapels of hoodie together, so she could get the zipper. He ended up stowing his phone in her hoodie pocket. “It’ll help. Because now you gotta walk me back to my car, Astrid.”  
  
Afterward Hiccup wished he had volunteered for the zipping, because when Astrid did it, it was _so_ slowly. He almost couldn’t watch. By the time that she settled the tab at the top, his grip on her sweatshirt was very tight indeed. He made a conscious effort to let go, plucking at it to adjust the way it settled on her shoulders.  
  
Finally, he pulled her braid from beneath the neck of her hood, taking care not to catch it on the zipper. There was a sort of lazy half-grin on Astrid’s face, and her hand came up to capture his chin.  
  
“I’m really sorry I didn’t text you back a year ago, Astrid,” Hiccup said.  
  
Her nod was one part sympathetic, two parts distracted, and her mouth definitely tasted sharply of salt now.  
  
Between them, in the fanny pack, her phone buzzed.  
  
“Ignore that,” he murmured against her lips.  
  
But her phone buzzed again.  
  
“Ugh,” Astrid said, pushing his face away, “this might be important.”  
  
He could only wait so patiently as she unzipped her fanny pack then stared blankly for long moments at the bright light of her phone screen. “So was it important?”  
  
Astrid’s eyes slid up to his face. Then, very deliberately, they slid all the way back down. As a sense of mounting horror engulfed his every nerve, she handed him her phone and said, “You tell me, I guess.”  
  
Hiccup recognized a picture of Hookfang and almost didn’t want to look any further.  
  
His cousin had lasted all of a few hours before breaking his promise. It was actually an improvement.  
  
At least, Hiccup thought that, until he read the text Snot had sent:  
  
_hey if your a doctor hics got a lump he needs an opinion on  
peace S _  
  
And as Hiccup was wondering how to recover from this, four more came in, one right after the other:  
  
_ps hicc the condom in youre walet, i took it from u like 1 year ago idk if u noticed?  
just helpin a bro out  
peace  
S  
_  
Nevermind. Hiccup totally retracted what he thought earlier. He owed Snot nothing for anything.  
  
“What else does it say?”  
  
“Um,” Hiccup cleared his throat, “it says, can I please delete at least the first one before I tell you.”  
  
Astrid snatched her phone back.  
  
Then she laughed.  
  
Hiccup sighed.  
  
Her face turned serious. “But you don’t have a l—?”  
  
He was already shaking his head, thinking, _oh my god_.  
  
“Because if you do, you should probably get it—”  
  
“What—?” Hiccup floundered. Why did people keep saying this to him today? How did this even come up in the first place? “No, there’s no lump, okay, and at this specific point in time everyone will just have to take my word for this, like what d’you want, a p—” _Do not say picture._  
  
“A what, Hiccup?” Astrid asked sweetly.  
  
Rubbing a palm over his face, Hiccup opened his mouth, then closed it, wondering what he could possibly say. “Can I start over again?”  
  
“Show me to your car.” Astrid shook her head and bit a laugh, adjusting her sweatshirt where Toothless lay like a backpack. “I’ll give you a pass.”  
  
*


End file.
